The Argosy, Vol. XXIV No. 2 — page 40: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

232 THE TRACK OF MIDNIGHT. has been awakened from his sleep by the roar of fire over his head, to rush to the door in an effort to escape but only to rush into the death trap set for him. It did not take Wilton very long to make up his mind what to do. CHAPTER XI.—MIpDNIGHT VIsI'rs MELEELEE, Axout a hundred yards from the door of the hut there was the remains of a big fallen tree. It had evidently come down in some by gone bush fire, for its outer side was charred and burnt, and the little that remained standing above the roots was also burnt and black. But its fall had been of marvelous benefit toa subsequent growth, and the space it had cleared when it fell was now crowded by a growth of young saplings and bushes. Directly it was dark enough for his movements not to be observed by any one who might be watching, Wilton crept round under the shadow of the veranda into the bush behind the hut. ‘Thence he cautiously made his way to the clump of saplings, and lying down close under the fallen log, rested his rifle upon it and watched the door of the hut. Silently the hours passed, and he lay still, listening intently for any sound that might signify the approach of his enemies. But the night wore on slowly and his ears caught nothing more than the ordinary noises, dim and indistinct, of the sleeping bush. ‘The moon was waning, and its weak slant- ing beams illuminated the open spaces enough to make the shadows beyond absolutely impenetrable. With his senses keenly on the alert, Wilton was convinced, in his own mind, that an attack was to be made upon him ; and, as the time passed, the suspense and uncertainty began to tell upon him, and he wished he had ridden away after Giles, directly he discovered that Warrigal had gone. Then he wished that he had waited until Farrell could have come up with him, for as he lay in the silence and half light, the story of how the previous owner of Meleelee had met his end, forced itself upon his already strained nerves. The crackle of breaking twigs sounded through the air, and instantly he tightened his grip upon his rifle. A moment later and he saw a dark firure stealthily creeping toward the door of the hut from the shadow of the bush. Wilton felt his nerves in a tremor as he watched the man, crouched down and moving with a ‘wonderfully silent stealthiness towards the hut. ‘The faint glimmer of the fading moonlight was just sufficient to show him up asa dark shadow, but was not enough to enable Wilton to see whether he was black or white, clad or naked. ‘The way in which he moved suggested the black, and presently, noticing an indistinct something which looked very like a spear trailing behind the figure, Wilton made up his mind that it was either Warrigal or another member of his tribe. The parting advice of Giles flashed through his memory, and he glanced along the sight of his rifle as well as he could, so as to get a steady aim at the tan. His finger was on the trigger, and he was about to pull it, when dis- cretion came to him and he hesitated. Supposing that the man were only one member of the tribe, who was creeping upon the hut in order to ascertain’ (E(0) mi eboo (E@) S)